Twilight a Leafy Rewrite
by Goldenleafy
Summary: Did you think that Twilight was a bit boring? Did you feel as though the characters weren't as deep as they could have been? Do you feel like the story wasn't descriptive enough? Do you wish Bella wasn't such a brat, and actually did something worthwhile? Well then this is the story for you! Twilight a Leafy Rewrite is everything Twilight wasn't, and more!


**A/n: Hello readers, and welcome to Twilight a Leafy Rewrite. I am rewriting Twilight to my own tastes. I used a few lines from the actual story, all copyrights of characters and lines belong to Stephanie Meyer. I probably won't change the plot too much, but I will change character actions and behaviors a bit. My goal is not to make the characters the same as in the book; I think they're boring in the original story. I have nothing against Stephanie Meyer, Twilight was a decent read, I enjoyed it, but I didn't feel it was done right. Please do not flame me, as I am not trying to disrespect Twilight, but simply have some fun.**

Enjoy!

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. It was a stark contrast to how I was feeling. I would board the plane soon, herded along with the other hundred passengers like a small item into a tightly packed crate. I was headed to Forks, Washington, a small city that was nearly unheard of by any person in the rest of the world. It rained there more than anywhere else in the United States, and with the rain came a lush green landscape. It was the one upside of Forks, the green.

I wouldn't go if I had any choice. I didn't mind the yearly visits with my father, but I most certainly didn't want to live there. I loved the sun, and in Forks, there simply was not enough.

I looked towards my mother, desperate.

"Mom," I almost begged as I was about to board the plane, "Please don't make me go."

She shook her head in denial, and there was a sadness that graced her face for a second before it returned to that stony, expressionless mask. My mother looks like me, a round face framed by mass amounts of hair. Mine is curlier, almost in tangles, but hers is wavy and a dirty blonde. We shared the same thin lips that barely smiled, and the same thin frame, although hers was looking a bit more fragile as of late. We both had similar noses in shape, short and small, although mine was covered in freckles. Our eyes, both almond shaped, were framed in thick, black lashes. My eye color came from my father, a deep chocolate brown. Her skin was tanned and almost leathery, the absolute opposite of mine. I almost seemed to repel any kind of pigment, but I didn't mind. I'd fit in a little better in Forks that way.

I detested her for making me go. I knew it wasn't her fault entirely, that her boyfriend wanted me out of the way so she could travel with him and his minor league baseball team, but I still felt betrayed. The only thing that comforted me was the fact that she would be happy for the first time in a long time without me to worry about.

I hugged her good-bye, and boarded the plane.

Forks is too small and out of the way to have its own international airport, so even getting there was a pain. It was a 4 hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive to Forks. I was looking forward to catching up with my dad in the car. He had been fairly nice about the whole thing, even though he knew it wasn't what I wanted. I heard him and my mother arguing over the phone before I left. He tried to convince her to let me stay, but she wouldn't budge. He was a good man, and even though he was excited to have me there, he would rather me be happy. It was something I really respected about him.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was drizzling. I didn't see it as an omen- just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

My father was waiting for me, leaning on his police cruiser. He was Chief Swan, and fairly proud of his small town position. He was a short, stocky man, with a head full of the same curly brown hair I had. He had a soft jaw and a heart shaped face. His hair graced his forehead lightly, which was full of wrinkles. My eyes stared back at me as I ran toward him for a hug, the pleasant smell of cigar smoke and pine leaves wrapping around me and invading my nose. He let go of me and beamed, his eyes wrinkling up at the corners as he smiled.

"How are you Bella?" He asked, taking my few bags from me and loading the back of the car. I walked around to the passenger side and let myself in, and waited for him to sit before answering. The seats breathed as he plopped into his car and promptly started the car.

"I'm alright Dad. How's Forks?" I asked, and he smirked.

"Same as always Bella. How's your mother?"

I thought for a moment as I looked out the window. We were on a road that must've looked as if it were carved into the thick trees around it. I looked back to him as I answered;

"Same as always."

His bushy black eyebrows went up as he rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle. We were quiet for the rest of the car ride as I admired the scenery. My father and I were alike in the fact that neither of us liked to chit chat unless it was necessary. He never pestered me with questions like my mother, and I appreciated it. He was a quiet man, someone who would take things in before speaking. I was the same way. I sighed as the green landscape rushed past us, blurring in almost a singular shade as we drew closer to forks.

We pulled into the driveway of my father's house an hour later, the car bumping and swaying as we rolled over the uneven ground. His house was two stories and had two bedrooms. He had bought it in the early days of his marriage-the only days I should say. It was small, white with black shingles and shutters. Quaint could be used to describe it, because surrounded by all the trees and life of the forest, it was nearly picture perfect. Now the inside was probably a different story, considering every time I visited it was a mess. The house never changed. It was always the one solid thing in my memory that I could count on, something that would never go away. This time, however, there was something monstrous in the driveway.

A faded red truck with big, rounded fenders, and a bulbous cab that looked like it had been dropped from an old Polaroid taken in the 60's sat in front of the house. It looked sturdy, like one of those invincible cars you see at the scene of an accident- completely unscathed, leaving the other car in ruins.

I looked over at my dad, as his face lit up into a huge, satisfied grin. "Just as promised." He said to himself, and nearly jumped out of the car. I followed him picking up on the excitement he was emulating as he circled the ancient beast of a vehicle like an excited puppy around its owner. His boots crunched against the gravel, and I heard the opening of the trucks door. It croaked, confirming its age.

I stood behind Dad as he half crawled into the cab, and then stood back up on his feet.

"Well?" He said looking at me with hopeful eyes.  
"Well?" I questioned back, not really sure what he was asking.

"What do you think of your new truck?" He asked and my eyes widened. For me? Wow. It was actually perfect, considering my driving record was… less than impeccable.

"I...I love it!" I managed to get out, and began to mimic the excited puppy dog motions my dad was making before. It was definitely my type of car, something I'd feel safe in. I whipped around and faced him, beaming harder than I had since before I found out I'd be leaving Phoenix. He watched, looking pleased as I thoroughly inspected the insides of the car. I sat in the driver's seat, and looked at him.

"Where'd you get it?" I inquired, and he smiled.

"Remember Jacob Black from La Push?" La Push is the Indian reservation down on the coast.

I did. Jacob Black was an old friend of mine, even though he was a bit younger than me. We had been forced into play dates when I had my annual visit, and eventually became good friends. But he couldn't have sold my dad the car, considering he was only 15. It must have been his Father, Billy.

"You bought it from Billy?"

"Well… Not exactly." He sheepishly put his hand behind his head and looked away.

"How'd you get it dad?" I asked, suspiciously eying him as he looked back up to face me.

"Well, I won it in a bet."

I smirked at the irony.

"Dad, you've gone crooked."

"I guess I'll just have to turn myself in, Ms. Swan." He chuckled, and then waved me into the house.


End file.
